The White Horses
by Emmint
Summary: A young man with illustrious relatives arrives in Dodge to sell horses and meet up with his cousin, it all ends with an impromptu performance by the Spanish Riding School of Vienna.


Tom Jessops rode into Dodge City leading a string of twenty bay horses and not a sorry looking one among them. US Marshal Matt Dillon was sitting on a chair outside the office, a cup of coffee in his left hand, Doc Adams and his son Joseph were sat in chairs next to him, with cups of coffee. "Good horses, Matt," Doc said.

"Sure are, Doc," they watched as Tom rode up to Moss Grimmick's he dismounted.

"Need to put these horses in your corral for the night. Quartermaster from Fort Dodge will be here tomorrow to take them off my hands."

"Sure thing, young fella," Hank Miller said, "you go right ahead. You want to put your mount in with them or I can let you have a stall for the night."

"Thanks, I'll put him in the stall in a moment," Matt and Doc had now wandered over to the stables, Matt leaned on the corral watching as Tom released the horses into the corral. Nathan Burke came up to the corral.

"Are you Tom Jessops?" Tom turned.

"That's me."

"There's a delivery awaiting you at the depot."

"Right!" Tom finished dealing with the horses, and walked to the depot.

"You, Tom Jessops?" the station man said, Tom nodded. The station man indicated a freight car in the siding. Tom opened it, he climbed in.

"You got a ramp?" The station man had a ramp brought over, Tom led two Lippizaner mares down the ramp and tethered them to the hitching pole then went back up and led two stallions down.

"Wow!"

"A gift from a relative," Tom led the horses to Moss Grimmick's, Matt looked up as he returned. "A bit ostentatious from a very ostentatious relative."

"Rich relative, judging by the quality of horses he sent you," Matt said.

"Maternal uncle, Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany," Matt whistled at that.

"What breed of horse are they?" Doc asked.

"Lipizzaners. Very valuable. When the mares drop their foals, which looking at them should be soon, the foals are born black. When they reach three years they start turning grey, by age four they're pure white. You should see what the Spanish Riding School of Vienna can do with these horses."

"Where'd you want this here crate?" Festus said. "Howdy, Matthew, Doc."

"Right over there. Mr Miller, have you got a crowbar?"

"Here you are, young fella," Tom used the crowbar, opening the crate. he lifted out the saddles, bridles and saddlecloths.

"Golly bill, those are sure fine saddles."

"Well, horses like these you don't put just anything on their backs," Tom saddled each of the stallions, "they need exercise after that long journey," Tom mounted one of them, the stallion began to piaffe, neck arched. the stallion went back on his haunches lifting his forelegs up off the floor and just stayed motionless. "Marshal, you want to try the other stallion?" Matt smiled and mounted the waiting horse, they rode out onto the street. Amos McKee and his tough Texas trail hands watched.

"Boss, them horses is sure beauties," one of the hands said.

"They are that but a bit too flashy. They sure couldn't do what one of ours has to do on a trail."

"Tom, you going to let them talk like that about your horses?" Matt asked.

"Well, Marshal, don't reckon I am, but I've got some friends visiting tomorrow and they will make him eat those words."

"Friends?"

"Spanish Riding School from Vienna, they're with another relative of mine."

"Another rich relative?"

"Another maternal uncle, Karl Ludwig heir to the Archduchy of Austria, he's visiting America making a sideways move to visit me."

"How many of these maternal uncles have you got?"

"Plenty, but don't forget maternal aunts."

"Such as?"

"Queen Victoria, my mother wasn't exactly one of her favourite cousins. She pays me an annual allowance to stay out of England. Enough that I don't actually have to work, but I've never been one for staying idle."

"That explains the twenty horses you brought down from Wyoming for the army."

"And the eight years prior to that as a deputy sheriff."

"Where in Wyoming?"

"Jackson, hot in the summer and as cold as hell in the winter," the stallions began piaffing. "I think they're telling us to get going," Matt nodded they nudged the horses forward, the stallions started Spanish walking. "Hey none of that walk normally," they rode on returning an hour or two later, the stallions still looking fresh.

* * *

><p>The next morning the train pulled in, two private carriages and four freight cars, were uncoupled and shunted into the side spur, everybody alighted from the carriages, they unloaded the horses. "Hello, Karl," Tom said. "This is Marshal Matt Dillon."<p>

"A pleasure, sir," Karl Ludwig smiled.

"Please, no formalities, in your country I prefer to be just Karl, the riding school will entertain this afternoon. It is only on rare occasions they perform outside of Vienna or more rarer outside of Austria."

* * *

><p>That afternoon, the orchestra started playing Schubert's Marche Militaire and the riders of the school performed their musical ride, the trail hands got really interested when they performed the airs above the ground, levade, croupade and capriole both with rider and without. "Mr McKee, you want to take back your opinion of Lipizzaners, now?" Tom asked, the people of Dodge just stood awestruck.<p>

"I still think they couldn't herd cattle, but as Sunday go to meeting horses."

"You, my friend are too stuck in your ways," Tom said.

"Why don't you boys come in the Long Branch have some beer on the house?" Miss Kitty said.

"I'll second that," Doc said.

"Festus can you take a couple of buckets of beer to the stables for the riders?"

"Sure, thang, Miss Kitty," Sam served up the beers and Festus trotted off to the stables.

"Miss Kitty over at the Long Branch figured you'd like some beer, it's on the house," the riders accepted the beer with pleasure.


End file.
